


mache garden

by reminiscence



Category: Gundam SEED, Gundam SEED Destiny
Genre: F/M, Freeverse, Gen, Poetry, ffn challenge: digimon battle spirit the challenge, ffn challenge: diversity writing challenge, poetry collection, word count: 2501-3500 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reminiscence/pseuds/reminiscence
Summary: Because life is a garden bed and they are the seeds that struggle through ash and rotten comrades and weeds.





	1. lesson

In our sweet corner of the world, war was  
books and stacks of notes that piled up  
in front of dates: exam dates, and tasks  
which grant the keys to the passers

And a shadow on the TV screen, far away  
but drawing ever closer: the horn  
of blood and bone and ash that blew  
on the eastern winds…

But then the sky and streets were set aflame  
and we learned true war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the Digimon Battle Spirit: the Challenge, match 1.2 (Renamon vs. Terriermon). Prompts in this poem: #001 - terrify, #006 - flame, #017 - learn, #025 - place, #049 - distance, #073 - delay


	2. ripples

His footsteps leave ripples in the water  
and prints in the mud, but far too late:  
the cement's already been poured  
and fate is sealed. The coffin lid is closed  
and not even the blade he wields  
that clips bird wings  
can open it.

He holds a blade, not a key  
and he can't fit it into the lock;  
he can't pick the lock.

That moment, that miracle  
is gone like the ripples that fade away  
and his regret stays, imprinted  
on the mud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Digimon Battle Spirit: the Challenge, match 1.2 (Renamon vs. Terriermon). Prompts in this poem: #008 - bubble, #013 - lamentable, #014 - heartbreaking, #064 - closed, #065 - selective.


	3. reporter

It's her coping mechanism now:  
the bucket in which she collects the drops  
of rain from the sky. They're a mix  
of whites and blues and bloods  
and she can't bear to drink  
so she won't.

She'll pay for her water instead,  
like she pays for her life: those who live  
some semblance of normal lives  
even with a war outdoors.

She stuffs her bag with pens and papers  
and memory cards for her camera  
and a lens cloth for the rain her bucket  
can't quite hold. She writes short notes,  
then crosses them and adds to them  
and paints nail-polish on every nail.

She glorifies a blood-soaked world  
and then returns to her blood-free  
but lacklustre water and loafs of bread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Digimon Battle Spirit: the Challenge, match 1.2 (Renamon vs. Terriermon). Prompts in this poem: #026 - health, #028 - pail, #029 - writing, #030 - glorious, #032 - lackadaisical, #035 - surround, #036 - bag, #037 - income, #052 - ink.


	4. Torii

It's the perfect little bird  
but he paints its faults, so that  
it becomes the gnawed childhood  
stuffed animal in the closet  
that's been washed too many times  
and is falling apart, but they  
simply can't bring themselves to be  
rid of it.

It's a lie. Of course it's a lie.  
He said the bird could once talk  
but the box broke, and he's never  
tried to fix it because it's his  
childhood stuffed animal  
and people don't fix animals  
at his age. They just tuck them  
away into precious corners  
so they'll be saved from sweeps.

But a perfect childhood toy:  
there is no thing. Not here.  
Not on earth, though on the moon  
such is the ordinary way.  
So he hides perfection behind  
a coat of faults and lies, and the  
comfort is his alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Digimon Battle Spirit: the Challenge, match 1.2 (Renamon vs. Terriermon). Prompts in this poem: #009 – taboo, #011 – robin, #022 – brush, #034 – ragged, #047 – invention


	5. death-fight

They chase each other to a mutual death  
or so they think.

There's an explosion.  
There's a crater.  
There's a ring of hellfire  
in which they both burn  
and there's no escape

And yet they both crawl out.  
Covered in wounds, yes,  
but they crawl on their hands and knees  
until those give way, then they crawl on their bellies  
like leeches searching for a bit of blood

Until the blood leaks out and colours  
the ocean red.

They've chased each other to death  
and then they sleep on its banks  
and they know, they can't,  
they shouldn't –

They were friends once,  
once upon a time,  
until it came to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts in this poem: #002 - chase, #016 - drain, #033 - subdued, #074 - continue, #075 - mate, #097 - seashore


	6. aftermath

She wishes she can fly a fighter plane so she  
can leap onto the clouds and comb them  
and all the lands and sea below

But she’s terrified too because they’re all in pieces now  
and if she goes out there, she might wind up in pieces too  
or worse, find him, find them, in pieces

And she’s never been good at jigsaws.  
How will she put them back together?

This is a war and there’s no amount of super-glue  
that’s going to fix that. She’s chosen this. They’ve chosen this  
and now they face the puddle of self-worth they are  
because they can’t fly a fighter plane, or a mobile suit.

There are other things only they can do  
but when they look at the blood and the wreckage  
and the smoke that rises from it all,  
they can’t see it.

Their eyes only sting and bleed tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts in this poem: #003 - search, #040 - somber, #053 - shock, #059 - rake, #072 - metal


	7. working relationship

They clash like oil and water at first  
and there’s a flint thrown in,  
so they keep on catching fire

But there’s seeds thrown in as well  
and they grow on each other:  
stains they can’t rub off,  
algae that’s dug in its roots.

They barely look each other in the eye  
even still. They walk their separate paths  
and the ones who play peacekeeper   
between them still play

But that’s all okay  
now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts in this poem: #004 - likeable, #018 - ugliest, #021 - coil, #067 - plant, #080 - annoyed


	8. clones

It’s not fair  
that they have such a frail shell,  
that the clock ticks too fast  
because it’s not been calibrated  
right,

It’s not fair  
that they barely get a taste  
of life before it’s gone.

It’s not fair  
that their childhood disappears  
in the blink of an eye, and old age  
is but a dream chalice  
they’ll never drink a sip from.

It’s not fair  
that their first memories are of pills  
being rammed down their throats  
to stop the pain.

It’s not fair that they’re imperfect  
versions, copied again and again  
and never right but always milking  
like cows in the pasture  
the perfect specimen they never are,  
they never aspire to be

And it’s not fair  
that they’re not considered human at all  
when they’re born from one  
and they’ll die like one,  
just young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts in this poem: #005 - dispensable, #063, #079 - agree, #081 - rot, #084 - improve


	9. smile

Sometimes, it seems as though he’s forgotten  
how to smile.

There’s not much to smile about.  
Just fireworks on the battlefields  
and sprays of blood as they   
break stalemates:  
as they miss the parries  
and hit their marks.

Sometimes he’s forgotten  
that he’s not a machine, but  
a human who can break down and cry  
if there are arms to receive him in

And maybe that’s a thing  
because he was those arms  
but he doesn’t have them.  
Not yet. Not now.

He also doesn’t have the girl he’d wrap  
in the embrace of his own arms.

He only has his weapon:  
his sword  
his hammer  
to shatter his enemies  
and his own heart as well because  
there’s no armour there. Nothing to save it  
as it’s torn on the battlefield, by his own hammer,  
his own sword.

And through it all, it seems he’s forgotten  
how to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts in this poem: #007 - serious, #010 - sturdy, #012 - crack, #015 - hammer, #031 - spray


	10. duty

They all have their dreams but they get brushed

aside by the war, by the call to arms, and their  
fingers wrap around swords and blasters  
instead of wires and piano keys…

There's no couch on the library to curl up on  
with a book, or a garden-seat with the sweet-  
smelling flowers gathered round, or the kitchen  
table with the spices in the air and on their tongues…

There's not even time for a good luck charm:  
that rabbit paw or star in the sky  
or carved bit of wood or woven  
bracelets that wait for them at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts in this poem: #019 - attend, #042 - library, #055 - auspicious, #062 - home, #066 - star.


	11. cockpit

There was an echo in her mind,  
in her cockpit,  
as though there should have been  
someone beside her

But cockpits are only made  
for a single person, a single pilot –  
and who would stay there anyway?  
They were on a battlefield  
and hadn't she just blasted a world away?

Why should there be anything beside her  
but her shadow…  
and yet it still felt as though someone  
was missing there.


	12. trinkets

They were old relics,  
but precious and she left them  
somewhere safe  
each time she flew…

She wasn’t even meant to have flown  
but still she flew, and they waited,  
the photos, the ring, the memories…

The only thing that was with her was the ash  
that couldn’t catch flames on the field  
or be clipped like fairy wings  
along the way…

The rest were in the time capsule  
that she’d dig up when she returned.


	13. sunburst

It seemed like a long road and yet  
it was far too short, in the end,  
cut by a thread

And the frayed ends of the rope   
fell apart like they’d never  
been together

And had it been so wrong to eye the top?  
Had it been so wrong to count her blessings  
when she hadn’t known they’d been wolves  
in disguise?

But they hadn’t been.  
She’s the one who made them wolves  
in disguise

And yet there were things that mattered more  
and she didn’t regret her end, nor did she  
regret that no-one saw that glorious sunburst  
of hers.

She only regretted the things she couldn’t do  
or say, herself.


	14. forever war

It would’ve been nice to just retire  
to a quaint little country in the sea  
where the wars didn’t reach

But they’d travelled half the globe  
with their war, so maybe there was  
no place like that, no place   
blood and tears  
didn’t show…

There was no safe place where he could walk  
without his armour and blade in reach,  
no safe moment where he could leave  
all the extra shells he’d picked up  
along the way

And no safe bed he could close his eyes in  
and sleep, without the red fires of fighting frames  
in his dreams.


	15. suicide duel

Let us dance together  
while the comet comes  
upon us, in the wave of red  
that trickles behind…

It’s the comet of our doom  
so lets fight one more time  
amidst the silver arrows  
of our fallen enemies, fallen friends,  
fallen prey…

But you and I are our only prey  
and I’ve chased you here  
to the end of the world and now  
we fight, fight to the end I won’t escape  
either way…

And for that, I cannot  
allow you to escape  
as well.


	16. ressurection

There would have been no hope.

There’s no air underwater  
save the bubbles that have long since melted  
into the waves  
and there’s no light  
except what’s already been turned to energy  
and led astray.  
There’s no blood  
except what’s already washed away.

And that explosion will have swallowed  
up all the rest:  
every bit of flesh, every scrap of cloth  
and every piece of bone  
that would make up the skeleton  
of your demise

But still you surfaced, the underwater  
oasis that rose up again, where even a phoenix  
could not rise from the ash because the ash   
had drowned…

There was no hope at all, no way  
but somehow, you were there  
anyway.


	17. paradise

It was never a race to see  
which of them  
would reach paradise first

But somewhere along the lines  
it became exactly that.

They ran across the course,  
building traps, causing cave ins  
and rewriting the entire dance

And yet they all headed   
into paradise nonetheless.

The road to paradise quickly filled  
with blood but still they walked  
and waded, and flew.

The quickest way to reach paradise  
was to die a martyr’s death  
and so that is what they do

And the survivors with their bloodshot eyes  
walk on, towards a garden  
that were neither green  
nor at peace  
but their spoils nonetheless.


	18. unsaid

It was a series of chain reactions  
until she lost the initial thread  
that began it all.

It was there, amidst the tears,  
amidst the sorrow

But this was war and war brushed  
it all astray, and all else  
to the forefront of her mind.

She went from the puppeteer to the puppet  
and she danced upon strings  
she couldn’t see, couldn’t know

And that was here torment

But she had her reasons still,  
reasons somewhere: in her heart  
she’d once loved, still loved,  
had twisted and used and failed,  
was sorry…

All those things that were tangled up  
and couldn’t be said  
anymore.


	19. dead town

They’d heard of painting a town red before  
but this was black: just ash  
upon the breeze and they’d been far  
too late.

It wasn’t a town bathed in blood but a town  
that had been completely blasted from the map.

It was like using a gun on a seed  
that couldn’t have sprouted if it tried.

It was like using a grenade in a piece of meat  
that would rip it to shreds and more if it tried.

The town was no longer a town: not a relic,  
not a ghost, not a frame that could be rebuilt  
or even cast aside.

Once the wind was done with its work, it would only  
an echo in their minds.


	20. SEED

It was like someone would pull a switch  
in their minds, and they’d be swept away

And until the haze cleared, they’d be  
trembling with fight and rage.

They couldn’t run if they tried.  
They couldn’t shed a tear  
for all the blood that spilt around.  
They couldn’t hear the calls of comrades  
on the field, or see the sparks that fly  
as swords of friend and foe clash  
within their eyes

Because within their eyes, there’s only them,  
each other, the one person who swallows them whole  
and they are swallowed whole: in that rage,  
in that battle lust

And they embrace it. They fight  
until they fall, and only then  
can they lament the harm they’ve caused.


	21. sortie

It was a wild ride once they were out there.

Nothing like school.  
Nothing like life  
or else the lives they’d led before.

It was nothing like what they knew  
but the training wheels were off  
and all they had was the little cockpit  
and the strap that tied him in.

He could have been a prisoner  
or a driver. He had the wheel   
at least.

It was up to him how to use those  
wings he’d been given.

If he flew, he was the master.  
If he was blown, he was the slave.

It was nothing like his training exercises  
one bit, but a wilder ride

And he just had to hang on tight.


	22. choice

They weren’t children  
where a few loud reprimands  
can fix the world.

They weren’t so few  
that a well placed argument  
can do it all.

They were many, and diverse  
and there was no one answer  
for them all,  
no one will they’d bow to  
or one story for them to walk  
towards the end together…

And so the wars  
would always go on.

There’d never be a peaceful world  
because there’d always be someone else  
who would say no

And that was the price   
they chose to pay  
in exchange for the right  
to choose themselves:

Their past,  
their present,  
their future

Their love,  
their friends,  
all that mattered  
in the world.


	23. single best answer

There was no one critical flaw  
in the world

That could be filled with superglue  
but wouldn’t it be lovely if   
there was?

We could fill that hope, stopper the blood  
that gushed   
from that eternal wound

And then we’d have ourselves  
a peaceful world.

But there was no peace  
to be found in this place  
where there was no one crack  
to fill, or one hole  
to block.

There was no one critical flaw   
in the world that could be fixed  
and so there was no one way  
to fix the world.

If only there had been, there could be  
a happiness for all

But because there is not, there’ll never be  
a single answer for them all.


	24. reasons why you fight

We are not clumsy fools  
who’ve stumbled upon a battlefield  
only to be crushed  
by the falling swords.

We are children  
and children   
ask why.

We are curious babes  
and they reach  
for anything.

We are young adults  
who have a life  
they want to live.

And so we'll pick up a sword  
and fight, but ask why we fight  
and seek the light  
that will lead us to the answer  
as to why we fight.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, f1 - a poetry collection


End file.
